


My Life and My Love

by polaroidfiction



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Anxiety, Established Relationship, M/M, Self-Indulgent, Supportive Zevran Arainai, Wedding Fluff, Weddings, Zevran Arainai is a Good Friend, implied/referenced PTSD, mutual emotional support
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 17:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17964806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polaroidfiction/pseuds/polaroidfiction
Summary: Zevran and Shorra have technically been engaged for a number of years, but one late night conversation leads them to finally tie the knot. They both have a lot of baggage to deal with, but years of love have given them plenty of time to find the words the other needs to hear.Self-Indulgent marriage/wedding fluff. Zevran is a supportive boyfriend.





	My Life and My Love

Shorra spoke softly, as he always did when he wasn’t putting on a brave face. Zevran held him, only half awake under the covers and lazy combing his fingers through Shorra’s greying hair. Frankly, he was barely aware of the words his lover was saying. Shorra was reminiscing of the past again, Zevran knew that much. Shorra pressed his forehead into Zevran’s chest, alerting him that it was his time to speak.

“What would it be like to go back to the alienage now? To live there?” Zevran murmured. Had Shorra moved on from his talk of the alienage? He didn’t know. He counted himself lucky that Shorra was well aware of his sleepy attention span and didn’t mind if the talk meandered.

“I… don’t know. I’ve strayed so far from the path one takes in life there, I don’t know what role I would fill. By tradition, I’m not even a grown man,” Shorra mused.

“No? You certainly seem a grown man to me,” Zevran said, sliding one hand down to Shorra’s hip.

Shorra scoffed and planted a soft kiss on Zevran’s collarbone. He was not initiating anything, Zevran knew, he was simply too lazy to shift himself the inches upward to catch Zevran’s lips. Zevran chuckled and moved his touch to Shorra’s shoulders, rubbing in gentle circles the way he knew soothed his lover’s weary heart.

“The wedding, it was…” Shorra started. He paused, and Zevran shifted his free hand between their chests to find Shorra’s callused fingers. Out of everything they’d been through during and since the blight,  _ the wedding _ , the thing that had set Shorra on his new life course, was always the hardest for him to talk about. Zevran squeezed his hand reassuringly, and Shorra continued, “In the alienage, getting married is how you become an adult. It symbolizes settling down, starting a family, establishing your place in the community. Since the wedding fell through, I never got to have that.”

“Do you want to?”

“What?”

“I doubt the fates will grant us all that settling down business, but we can at least make sure they’ll let you drink when you’re home.”

“I can… drink...” Shorra protested. Zevran couldn’t see, but he knew he had drawn a smile to Shorra’s lips. He smiled too.

“Quite a lot, as I recall. But you didn’t answer me, amor. Is that something you want?”

“... Not unless you wish it.”

_ That sounds like a proposal. _

_ Not unless you wish it. _

Warmth filled Zevran’s heart. Shorra had taken up use of that phrase after that night in the camp and it soon became a token between them, as much as the earring Shorra still wore.

“Shorra, I would give the world for you,” Zevran said. “If such a wedding will make you happy, then it will be done.”

Shorra pressed himself closer to Zevran. Minutes passed in silence, and Shorra’s breath began to hitch in his chest. Zevran simply held him, murmuring nothings into his ear to ease the pain of weeping. After everything, it was not uncommon for Shorra’s emotions— whether positive or negative— to overwhelm him. Who could expect otherwise? The man had alone carried the fate of Thedas on his shoulders for months. Though they’d been together for a few years now, Zevran still found himself terrified that Shorra trusted him enough to be so vulnerable with him. He only hoped that he continued to be what Shorra needed in times like this. Zevran traced his thumb along the wings tattooed across Shorra's cheekbones, drying them of tears.

The weary evening fell into night, and in time they both fell gently asleep.

* * *

Two months later, the two travelled to Denerim. They arrived in the dead of night after a full day of travel. The alienage lacked the lamps and torch-bearing guards of the city proper, so entering was like stepping into a wall of pitch. Despite this, Shorra took Zevran by the hand and guided him through the narrow, unpaved alleys as though they were bright as day.

They soon came upon Shorra's childhood home. Zevran bounced on the balls of his feet as Shorra knocked and stepped back to await answer. The door to the apartment opened moments later and a woman with fiery hair and a candle in hand peered into the dark at them.

“Shorra, you’re here, you’re early!” Shianni exclaimed. “And Zevran, it’s good to see you again. Get inside, both of you. Cyrion will want to know you’ve arrived.”

Shianni closed the door behind them and hurried into the other room to wake Shorra’s father, lighting candles on the table as she went. Zevran had only been in the apartment a few times, but it seemed slightly more done up than Zevran remembered. There were a couple woolen rugs on the floor, a glass vase filled with flowers on the mantle over the fireplace, and meager decor hung on the walls. It was hardly a substantial improvement, but the color surely did the place some good when it was light enough to see properly.

Cyrion appeared in the doorway, a warm smile on his face. “Shorra, my son! Come here,” he said, pulling Shorra into a hug. “It’s always a blessing to see you safe and sound. And you,” Cyrion let go of Shorra and took Zevran’s hand in a light handshake— so Shorra’s mild demeanor came from his father— “I trust you’ve been taking care of him?”

“Father, please—” Shorra cut in.

“Now, now, it is only right that he should expect as much,” Zevran said. “As much as I am able, serrah, I stay by Shorra’s side. And when I am away, I go to great pains to make sure he’s not having fun getting into trouble without me.”

Cyrion shook his head with a defeated smile. “Safety has always been too much to ask. So long as you’re happy, I suppose.”

“And you  _ are _ happy, right?” Shianni spoke to Shorra, but her glare was focused on Zevran. “I’ve read your letters but I want to hear it from your own mouth.”

“Shianni, Zevran’s the best—” Shorra’s voice cracked for how it had risen in his embarrassment. He cleared his throat and continued, “Yes, Zevran makes me happy.”

“Aw, I rather hoped you would finish your original statement. Anything starting with ‘Zevran’s the best’ is something I want to hear,” Zevran said.

“Later, love,” Shorra said, hooking his pinky through Zevran’s fingers.

Cyrion coughed. “Later, indeed. As happy as it makes me that you’ve arrived, it’s beyond late and you surely need to rest. You too, Shianni, you can put your quill down until morning.”

“But I’m Hahren, and there’s so much to arrange now that they’re here! I can work a while longer,” Shianni argued.

“Nothing will get done if you’re too tired to think clearly. To bed now, all of you. Shorra, your old room is still open so you two can make yourself at home there. Off with you now.”

Shorra’s bed was narrow, but not as uncomfortable as Zevran would have assumed. It was quite bearable so long as they lay pressed close together, an arrangement that Zevran had no problem with. As sleep creeped at his mind, he thought to ask, “So what was it you were about to say about me?”

“Later, love. Promise.”

A few days were to pass before the wedding date, and it seemed Shorra would hardly have a moment to himself in that time. It seemed every elf in the alienage wished to stop and speak with him about something, whether the blight or the wardens or Shorra’s youth or, rarely, Zevran. Not half a day of this had passed before Zevran grew bored and Shorra began visibly flagging.

“Go home, amor,” Zevran said as they sat in the alienage’s tavern, “I know you wish to spend time with your family. I will entertain the masses in your stead.”

Shorra nodded in relief and vanished from sight. Zevran boisterously engaged with a passing woman to cover his exit. He started spinning some story about Orzimmar and the Deep Roads and soon drew the attention of the remainder of the tavern’s patrons. The story went on for ages, spurred in different directions by his audience’s questions and exclamations. Half of what he said was nonsense— ‘the dwarves sucked on smooth stones after meals’ ‘swarms of nugs would come eat the darkspawn after we killed them,’ — but the blessed fools ate it up. He loved the attention, and was glad to take the burden off of Shorra’s shoulders. It was an enjoyable service to perform for his love, his… by Andraste, his husband-to-be.

Zevran brought his tale to a hurried conclusion and excused himself. Evening had fallen across the alienage, and most people had gone from the narrow roads. Zevran jogged back to the apartment unabated. He paused to collect himself when he arrived at the door. What did he even plan to do? He just needed to see Shorra, to understand that what they were to do was real. He entered the apartment with as cool a face as he could muster. Cyrion was tending the fireplace, and Shorra and Shianni both sat at the table engrossed in writing. Shorra’s hair was loose from its usual braid and tucked lazily behind his ear on one side. He looked up when the door creaked, and smiled at the sight of Zevran.

“My dear, would you join me for a stroll?” Zevran asked. His palms were sweating. He'd loved this man for years and he still sweated at the prospect of discussing the nature of their relationship. Embarrassing, frankly.

“A walk would be nice. I'll be just a moment,” Shorra said, closing his journal. He passed into his room and returned with their cloaks. He tossed Zevran’s to him and drew his own around himself. Zevran held out his arm to Shorra, and together they stepped out into the shadows cast by the setting sun.

“Did you have somewhere in mind?” Shorra asked.

“I-In truth, I simply wished to spend time with you. It's been so long since we haven't had somewhere we needed to be.”

“I know a place. It’s not too far,” Shorra said, picking up the pace slightly as he took the lead.

Shorra’s path led them onto the alienage’s main avenue and under the branches of the vhenadahl. Zevran glanced about, imagining the square in mere days’ time when the wedding would take place. He didn’t ponder long, thankfully, as Shorra pulled him onward. They left the Alienage and crossed through the city proper. They passed through the nearest gate to the land beyond Denerim’s walls. It was apparently a little-used entrance, as the road outside was unpaved and all but dissolved into mere footpaths when it crossed the treeline of the woods outside the city. Shorra was sure in step as he led Zevran along one of those paths through the trees. After minutes of walking, the path let out into a clearing around a wide pond. The water glimmered purple in the last light of the sunset.

“This is called Lover’s Lake. It’s shaped sort of like a heart if you look at it from over there and… well, you can imagine the things that happen here.”

“It sounds like you’ve come here no small number of times,” Zevran commented with a smirk.

Shorra shrugged. “I was a fit, dark-haired boy. When I went grey at the temples, there was practically a line to bed me.” He took Zevran by the hand and tugged him to sit at the pond’s edge. “It was fun for a while, but there was one I started to see more often, a boy named Willem, and I made the mistake of falling in love.”

“A familiar story,” Zevran said, quirking an eyebrow.

“Maybe so, but  _ you  _ don’t have a mother to beat us apart with a switch and condemn her son for dooming the alienage to extinction. Even my father… he was better, but he didn’t know before then that I enjoy the company of men. He worried that it meant I would refuse to take a bride when I came of age. I… stopped coming here after that.”

Zevran was at a loss. Did Shorra have any happy stories? He sifted through the questions in his mind and settled on asking, “Why bring me here, then?”

“… Impulse, mostly. It’s where I always came for love, and I love you.” Shorra leaned his head on Zevran’s shoulder.

And suddenly, Zevran was rushed back to the thoughts that had consumed him when their walk began. “This love of ours, a-and the upcoming wedding…” he started.

“I thought you looked rather serious. Tell me what’s on your mind,” Shorra said, looking at Zevran kindly. The compassion in his gentle blue eyes melted Zevran’s heart. 

“A wedding means many things for many people,” Zevran said, picking his words carefully. “Our engagement was something of an accident; I would not have thought of it as such if not for your suggestion—”

_ That sounds like a proposal. _

_ Not unless you wish it. _

“I wonder, what did it mean to you when you saw my actions that way?” Zevran finished. He felt as though his heartbeat must have been audible as he finished the question.

Shorra looked out at the still water, but his eyes were glazed in a way that meant he was thinking deeply. “I was always taught,” Shorra said at length, “ that marriage is ‘the beginning of the rest of your life.’ For you to propose, it was as if… it was as if you saw me, and you decided that’s what you wanted that life to look like. That what you found in me is worth making that promise. If you—” Shorra blinked and looked back at Zevran, worry on his face. “If… Was that not the case?”

“Perish the thought!” Zevran exclaimed, clutching Shorra’s hand to his chest. He ducked his head in embarrassment when tears began to burn in his eyes. Shorra thought so much of the moment, and still he had said yes. He’d said yes to Zevran, in trust and in love. “It’s as much as I could hope to hear from you. More, even. Ugh, I must look like a fool—” Zevran harshly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, “— I know you’ve said as much before, and here I am blubbering over you saying it again. I fear I may never understand the blessing that I’m here to stay.”

Shorra put a hand on the back of Zevran’s neck and pulled his forehead against his own. Zevran’s eyes closed as Shorra spoke. “My love, I’ll say it as many times as you need me to. My life is better for having you in it. I love you so, so much.”

Zevran wanted to reply, but words were lost to him. His throat felt tight as they sat there, foreheads touching, Shorra’s hand over his heart. Shorra’s voice fell to a whisper. His words were barely discernible, but filled with love all the same.

“Zev, you’re the b—” Shorra cut himself off.

“There it is again. What is it that you refuse to say I’m the best at?” Zevran asked, his sentimentality mercifully disrupted.

“Just wait a while longer. It’s not the time yet,” Shorra insisted, but Zevran saw him hiding a smile.

“You tease me so, my sweet. Perhaps you’ll confess if I treat you in kind,” Zevran purred, shifting so that his breath ghosted across Shorra’s neck. He teased his fingers up under the hem of Shorra’s shirt.

“And here I thought we were just going to have a quiet walk before bed,” Shorra gasped. “You’re welcome to try, but my lips are sealed.”

“Hardly,” Zevran said, and pushed into a passionate kiss. He bit at Shorra’s lips and darted his tongue between them as he pressed closer to his lover. Soon they were fully on the ground, Shorra’s legs wrapped around Zevran’s hips.

“You really want to do this here? The cold wind and hard dirt aren’t as romantic as you’d think,” Shorra said, breaking the kiss.

“Better in a place called Lover’s Lake than one thin wall away from your father, no?”

“Wynne would be so proud,” Shorra chuckled. Zevran started to retort, but settled for simply shutting Shorra up with another kiss.

 

Shorra’s father was asleep by the time the two returned, but Shianni was still awake writing letters at the table. She looked them up and down when they returned and said with a knowing smile, “You took him to the lake, didn’t you?”

“Not a word, Shianni,” Shorra said, suppressing a smile as he meandered into his room.

“Zevran, stay a minute.”

Zevran looked curiously at Shianni. Through the closed door, the bed creaked as Shorra dropped himself onto it. Shianni motioned Zevran over to the table.

“I just wanted to say that… I know Shorra has been through a lot. He’s carrying a lot of hurt, and it’s made him a different man from the one I grew up with. He’s quieter, mournful— but it’s easier for him when he’s with you.”

“I am… not certain I understand,” Zevran said.

“When you all came and drove out the slavers, I wondered if it was some trick because my cousin was so rigid and cold, like all the light had gone out of him. But then I saw him talk to you and the light was there. Something about you makes him forget all the horrible things that have happened, and he becomes like himself again. I don’t know if he’s aware of it, so I just want you to know that you do that for him.”

“I, ah…” Zevran scratched his head, dumbfounded, honored. “Thank you, Shianni. If, ahem, if it’s no trouble, what  _ was _ he like before everything?”

Shianni chuckled. “He was a free spirit, more than anything, living life with a smile and not a care in the world. He got it from his mother, anyone will tell you that. He was a romantic, too; he’d follow his heart even if it led him into a lion’s jaws. And he was always selfless. He did whatever he could to keep others out of harm’s way. That much hasn’t changed, I’m glad to say.”

Zevran nodded, imagining what that Shorra would look like. Hair more black than grey, smiles that reached his eyes, the allure of an elf who snuck out to practice swordplay, unafraid despite all the threatening laws he was breaking. Rather unlike the Shorra he knew, but he was okay with that. They would both be fools if their love was tied in with one another’s pasts. He excused himself and went to join Shorra,  _ his  _ Shorra, in bed.

* * *

 

“Maker, get up, both of you!”

A less than flattering sound fell out of Zevran’s throat as Shianni's voice pulled him rudely to consciousness. He blinked in the daylight and yawned as Shorra shifted awake as well.

“Come on! It's your big day and you're not even out of bed yet! Half the alienage is already at the tree and more are coming all the time.”

“Big da— s-shit!” Shorra lurched upright out of Zevran's arms. Shorra stumbled out of the bed and over to the dresser. “How late is it? How long has everyone been waiting?”

“Take a breath, cousin,” Shianni laughed. “Everyone's having a lovely time with the festivities. Soris just arrived, so I came to make sure you two actually plan on attending. I'll go let everyone know you're on your way.” She had a bounce in her step as she left.

Zevran watched as Shorra stripped to change. He was truly a lovely specimen. With a dramatic sigh Zevran pushed himself up from the bed as well. He padded over to the dresser and wrapped one arm around Shorra's bare stomach, reaching around him with the other to gather his own clothing for the day.

“It's rather difficult to put on pants when I can't bend over, my love,” Shorra said.

“The people should be so lucky as to witness your muscular thighs. But if you're so attached to the thought of imprisoning your beauty…” Zevran kissed the back of Shorra's neck and stepped away. He slipped into his own outfit and set about combing his hair while Shorra finished dressing.

Shorra plucked the comb from Zevran's fingers and began working his own hair back into a braid. Zevran eyed him, taking in the sight of his groom. Shorra's outfit was deep blue over white, reminiscent of the Warden uniforms. The pants fit him well, and Zevran considered that perhaps it wasn't such a loss after all that he wore them. He'd cleaned his boots, and even after years of dirtying and wear, they shone proudly. All in all, Shorra looked uncommonly put together, not a hair out of place with his braid complete. Zevran made a note to remedy that during their… private celebrations that night.

Zevran's outfit was rather more casual, with none of Shorra's buttons and belts and sashes. He wore a puffy russet shirt with gold embroidery around the collar, which was cut in such a way that it tended to fall open and reveal his exquisite collarbones. The shirt was tucked into equally flattering high waisted and laced black pants. He wore the antivan boots that Shorra had stolen for him so long ago, though he had proved much less adept at making them look like new. 

“Ready?” Shorra asked.

“Ready,” Zevran answered. Shorra hooked his hand through Zevran's arm, and the two made their way out towards the alienage square.

The sound as they approached was deafening; hundreds of people singing and shouting, children screaming, dogs barking. The whole of the alienage's main avenue was decorated with flags and streamers, and people had pulled tables from the nearest homes to pile high with food. One group of revelers caught sight of the pair approaching and raised their flagons in a cheer, one that spread through the entire party. Zevran bowed with a flourish, then looked at Shorra, wondering if the attention might be too much.

But Shorra was smiling. His eyes shone and even a laugh escaped him; not his usual quiet, breathy chuckle, but a bright, lively laugh. Zevran had no time to appreciate the sound, as Shorra pulled him forward, breaking into an eager jog. Shorra guided him through the crowds, snatching bites of food here and there and pointing out the best games to play. A maypole had been erected ahead of them near the vhenadahl, and Shorra smiled wryly as he explained the traditions associated with it. 

“Excuse me, Ser Shorra—!”

Shorra stopped in his tracks and sought the source of the voice. Zevran spied a man waving to them and pointed him out. The man's other hand was on the shoulder of a young girl who was pressing herself back against his legs.

“Willem!” Shorra exclaimed, “It's good to see you! Zevran, this is Willem, he's… well, he's the one I told you about at the lake.”

“The lake? Keeping the tradition alive, then, eh?” Willem winked. “My husband sends along his congratulations, but I hoped to catch you for, well here.” Willem kneeled and spoke to the girl in a low voice, but she shook her head and hid her face in response to whatever he said. “That's alright, sweetheart, I'll talk to them. My daughter here has taken to weaving these crowns of flowers for people who get married. She made a pair for you two as well, if you'll allow her to crown you.” Willem gently nudged the girl forward and she held out the crowns of blossoms. Shorra kneeled and Zevran followed suit, bowing his head so the girl could place the crown on his head. The task completed, the girl skittered back like a fawn and grabbed Willem's leg.

“When did you adopt?” Shorra asked as he stood.

“Shortly after Shianni became Hahren. The darkspawn attack left a lot of new orphans. Shianni was eager to find them homes, and we were eager to start our family. It just worked out. But I shouldn't keep you, you have plenty of people left to parade for before the ceremony. It's good to see you doing well, Shorra. And Zevran, consider yourself a lucky man.”

Willem guided his daughter away. Zevran looked to Shorra and adjusted the crown on his head. “Flower crowns. You didn’t tell me the story had a happy ending,” Zevran commented.

“It was years before it did. Willem was forced out of the alienage, but he came home with his husband shortly before my wedding, and this time Valendrian knew to protect him from his mother. He’s been living quite happily ever since, or so I gather. And now they have a family.”

Zevran spotted the wistful smile on Shorra’s lips. “Come, let the people see your crown,” he said, nudging Shorra along. Now was not the time to mourn the things they couldn’t have.

But then, he had never thought he would be married, either.

The vhenadahl was host to the most vibrant decorations, with all manner of things strung up from its branches, including artistic renderings of Shorra and Zevran on their many adventures. Shorra found Soris near its trunk, one arm wrapped protectively around his heavily pregnant human wife. Zevran saw the pair getting no small number of dirty glances, but Shorra embraced him warmly. Zevran watched from a few feet away as Shorra caught up with his cousin, the smile never fading from his face. Zevran had never seen his lover so happy. Shorra was home, he was with family, and he was taking part in familiar, joyful traditions. Is this the man Shianni remembered? The man that, according to her, Zevran helped Shorra to be?

“There you all are!” Shianni wove through the crowd to the group. “The priest is ready when you are. Maker, I haven’t been this nervous for a wedding since the first one I performed. Oh! Cyrion wanted to talk to both of you again before you go up. Soris— Oh, I’m babbling, you already know what to do. I’ll see you all on the stage.”

“Rather high strung, isn’t she?” Zevran commented.

“Try living with her,” Shorra and Soris chorused, then broke into laughter.

“Go on, Shorra, she said your father’s waiting. I’ll meet you on the stage,” Soris said, shooing Shorra away. Shorra caught Zevran’s hand as he made his way around the tree to the foot of the stage where Cyrion stood. Cyrion smiled and put a hand on each of their shoulders. As Cyrion looked at them, Zevran saw that his eyes were watering.

“I’ll say most of it during the blessing, but I— Maker, please forgive an old man’s tears— I want to tell you how happy I am to see this day. After Shorra was conscripted, and when word came from Ostagar, I felt like I’d sent my only son to his death. For him to not only be alive, but to have found someone to marry and spend his life with, it brings me joy and relief beyond words. Wherever you go after this, whatever you do, know that I’m so, so proud of you, and you both will always have a home here. Now,” Cyrion gave their shoulders a final squeeze before letting go, “how about we go on and get you married already?”

Talk rippled through the crowds as Shorra and Zevran climbed the stairs to the stage, following Cyrion to where Soris stood waiting. Shianni guided them to their places beside the chantry mother and turned to look over the crowds. She raised her hands for quiet and slowly the din of chatter was replaced by shuffling feet as the people crowded forward to watch the ceremony. 

“Friends, today is a joyous day for our community,” Shianni called out, lowering her hands. “We’ve come together to celebrate a momentous union, and a return to home and family. Years ago our beloved neighbor Shorra Tabris was called away to fight the Blight. We thought him lost, but he persevered in the face of impossible odds. Though he was far from us, he was not alone. Zevran Arainai joined him, fought beside him, and loved him when we could not. Today, the two of them have come to celebrate the love they found, and they life they’re building together. We welcome Shorra home to us, and we invite Zevran to join this community as a friend and as family, for without them, none of us would be here. When you go from here, think of the example they are for us: the commitment and selflessness they exercise are the very things that hold us together as a people.”

Some cynical voice in Zevran's mind urged him to pass judgement on something, the theatrics, the ceremony, even the smell, but he couldn't. He was here with his love, filled with a joy so rare, so pure and all-consuming that all else was driven from him. He’d once heard someone say that a wedding was the best day of a person’s life. At the time he’d thought that it was surely an exaggeration, but… he didn’t know if today was the best day he’d had, but it was certainly shaping up to be one of the better ones.

The crowd cheered for Shianni's sentiments as she stepped aside and Cyrion took her place. “Zevran, if you’ll join me,” he said.

Zevran took a couple steps forward and the crowd fell silent again. He felt a tangle of nerves writhe in his gut; perhaps he had simply suppressed it until now, or maybe the prospect of facing his lover's father was getting to him. How cliche. He knew he had Cyrion's support, the man had been nothing but welcoming since Shorra introduced him, but this was to be his official judgement in the eyes of the community, and only with Cyrion's blessing would the wedding proceed. Zevran tried his best to keep from fidgeting as Cyrion turned to him with a small smile.

“I’m told, Zevran, that you were hired to kill my son.”

The whispers in the crowd told him that this particular fact had not been made widely known. Truly, a great impression to make.

“The story is like something out of a romance novel,” Cyrion continued when the audience quieted, “A failed assassination blossoming into a relationship. Hearing the tale did nothing to calm my nerves, even knowing Shorra was alive and well. He’s my only child, and I’ve already let him cross into so much danger. However, I know Shorra’s mother would have found the story delightful. As Adaia is not here to witness this, I speak in her honor as well as my own.” Cyrion bowed his head briefly, perhaps sending a prayer for his late wife. “I believe Adaia would have looked at you and been glad that her son knew a good thing when he saw it. You’re a capable fighter and a loyal ally, virtues she took great pains to instill in him. She would have enjoyed your sense of humor and respected your strong will. Most of all, she would see how you take care of him, and know that he is in good hands. Adaia had her own trauma to cope with and I, young and foolish, left her alone with it for too long. It took me years to learn to treat my wife with the care you already give to Shorra. Adaia would have wanted nothing less for him.”

Zevran glanced back at Shorra, and saw him standing with his hands clasped and head bowed. Soris and Shianni both had a reassuring hands on him. It surely pained Shorra that his mother wasn’t here.

“Yes, I think she would have approved of Shorra's choice in companions. As for me, well… the way Shorra lights up when he sees you is enough. I know he loves you. Regardless of how you met, I’d have to be blind not to see how happy you make him. Zevran, it's my honor to give you my son to marry, and welcome you into this family of mine. Your journeys have taken you many places, but know now that you go with my blessing. If your path should ever lead back here, my door is open to you. Now go on, son, and get married already!”

The alienage applauded, but Zevran's mind was elsewhere.  _ Son.  _ Zevran hadn't been called son since… well, certainly before the Crows, assuming he'd ever been called it at all. He didn't anticipate the warm comfort that creeped up on him as he considered it. All these notions of family and home; what did it even mean that Cyrion was to be something of a father for him? It was all new and strange, but he didn't dislike it. He felt… proud even, to have earned such a title.

Zevran returned to his spot beside Shorra. The chantry mother stepped up and guided Zevran and Shorra to join hands. She raised her hand over them and began to recite from the Chant of Light, something about Andraste’s marriage to the Maker, all clunky verses that sat heavy on the tongue. Zevran put on an attentive face, if only to keep Shorra from reprimanding him later for how quickly he lost interest in a part of their wedding. It was ceremony— Zevran didn’t need the Maker’s signature to prove his love. Instead, he let his eyes wander across Shorra’s features.

Shorra wasn’t happy, Zevran saw immediately. It wasn't the sorrow for his mother; he looked anxious. His eyes flicked from the priest to the far end of the avenue, and his jaw moved slightly as he chewed at the inside of his mouth. When he saw Zevran looking at him, he dropped his gaze and closed his eyes, lips pursed. Zevran realized that the tremor that had taken their hands wasn’t just his own. With Shorra’s ability to maintain a calm mask, he very well might have been fully panicking inside.

_ The ceremony is where it went wrong before _ , Zevran realized. That end of the avenue was surely where the humans had appeared before stealing away the women of the party, forcing Shorra to take up arms against his fellow man for the first time. Shorra’s lips moved with the priests, silently reciting the Chant with her. Zevran could almost hear him mentally counting to when the humans would appear. Zevran tightened his grip on Shorra’s hands and made a split second decision as the preaching came to its conclusion.

“With the Maker bearing witness, let these promises be upheld. Ser Shorra, your vows—”

“Actually, dear Mother,” Zevran cut in, “I was hoping we could make a slight change to the proceedings. I would like to give my vows first, if it is quite alright.”

Shorra looked up in surprise. Zevran saw a question form on his lips, but rather than asking, he gave the priest a confirming nod.

“Very well. As you were, ser,” the priest said. Zevran breathed deeply through his nose and stared into the space over Shorra’s head, considering where to start.

“You didn’t write them down?” Shorra asked quietly, the slightest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You think too highly of me, amor,” Zevran murmured. He  _ had  _ written them down, as a matter of fact, but they did not say what he needed them to in this moment— and improv was more fun anyway. He exhaled and ran his thumbs over Shorra’s knuckles as he began to speak.

“When we met, I swore my life and loyalty to you. I swore to guard you and fight for you without reservation. Any danger you faced—” he saw Shorra glance again down the road, “— you would face with me at your back. You released me from that oath long ago, but you must know that I never left it behind, and never have I desired to. Today I wish to reinstate it— or swear a new one, as the case may be.” Zevran paused and locked eyes with Shorra. “Shorra Tabris, no matter what happens next or where the world takes us, I am yours before I am anything else. You have my life and my love, and I swear to stand by you until my heart stops beating. I will protect you when you go into battle, I will listen when you speak, I will hold you when you weep, and I will do all in my power make you happy. You and I, we have much to be afraid of in this world, and I can’t make that fear vanish. But you gave me hope, once. My only wish is to do the same for you. I love you more than all the silver and gold, and I will guard you twice as fiercely— never doubt this.”

The tremor in Shorra’s hands grew heavier, and large tears rolled suddenly down his cheeks. He tried to collect himself, but when he opened his mouth to speak the only sound that came out was a hiccup from the strain of containing his sobs. Zevran hoped that they were caused by his words and not his love’s fears overwhelming him. 

Ceremony rituals be damned. Zevran dropped Shorra’s hands and closed the gap between them to wrap him tightly in his arms. Shorra didn’t protest, and buried his face in the crook of Zevran’s neck. The tears came more freely, then. Shorra sucked in deep breaths, punctuated occasionally by more hiccups. Zevran ran one hand up and down his shoulders and pressed his cheek to Shorra’s hair. After a few moments Shorra’s breathing steadied. He lifted his head and asked softly, “Shall we continue?”

“Not unless you wish it,” Zevran answered. It wasn’t a plea. He meant it; he would gladly abandon all this if Shorra needed to leave. But Shorra lifted his head with a deep breath. Zevran let Shorra part himself enough to fumble in one of the many hidden pockets of his outfit. He drew out a folded piece of paper and held it over Zevran’s shoulder to read from. Zevran closed his eyes to listen. Shorra’s voice took on the bold tenor that he used when addressing the public, but it was brittle, and it cracked after only a few words. Zevran gave Shorra a squeeze and whispered, “This isn’t a show, amor. This is for you and I alone.” Shorra took another breath and started again. His voice was lower, more measured as he spoke into Zevran’s ear. 

“I never felt fear like the day I realized I loved you. No darkspawn compared to the danger of loving you, when it would be so easy to wake up one day beside you and go to bed alone that night. I don’t know what would have happened to me if you weren’t there. I don’t want to think about what my future would look like if I let you go now. I never want that to happen. I want to stay with you until the end.”

Zevran realized that already his brow was painfully pinched, his eyes squeezed shut hard against the tears that fought to appear. He knew that fear, for he had felt the very same. Truth be told, he still did. 

Shorra’s voice took on the warm, almost musical tone that came when he poured feeling into his words. “You helped me in the darkest time of my life, so let me promise you this: I will never turn my back to you. Your trials are mine, and if you ever face them alone it will be because I’m dead or in chains. I will stand with you against anything, and be happy knowing that you’re close to me. Zevran Arainai, you are the best thing that ever happened to me—”

_ Oh. _

“— and I won’t let that go unrepaid. Marry me, live your life with me, and let me love you for the rest of our days. And if I break this promise, let the Maker strike me down there.”

Zevran’s vision was blurred by tears when he opened his eyes. His cheeks were damp and his breath caught in his chest. He was crying. He couldn’t stop. How many years had it been, and Shorra’s love and loyalty still proved his greatest weakness.  _ The best thing that ever happened to me _ . Fuck, he was an assassin, a lovestruck fool who had the luck to attack a man of mercy. He couldn’t be so much to Shorra. He  _ couldn’t _ . And yet here Shorra was, swearing his life to Zevran in front of the most important people in his life. Zevran simply clutched him closer.

Faintly, he was aware of the priest finishing the rite. Suddenly Shorra’s lips were upon his and the lone voice became many, an entire community cheering the marriage made official. Zevran’s eyes drifted closed again and he slowly rocked side to side as he kissed Shorra— his  _ husband _ . His heart felt as though it would burst. They were really married. They were really in love. They would stay together forever. Shorra broke the kiss, but Zevran took him by the cheeks and pulled him into another. When they finally stopped to breathe, they stood with their foreheads pressed together as Shianni brought the ceremony to a close. Zevran smiled wide, fumbling through loving nothings that only Shorra would hear. Shorra was the one to break the embrace, looping his arm through Zevran’s and guiding him off the stage. The crowd parted for them, but only just; everyone pushed to declare their congratulations and well-wishes. 

The remainder of the day passed in a blur of food, drink, and conversation, broken only when the alienage’s resident band drew their instruments. Shorra and Zevran had never danced much, but the tenderness of their First Dance followed by the raucous of an overcrowded wedding polka put a smile on Zevran’s face. Shorra seemed well and back to enjoying himself as well, smiling widely and laughing brightly. Zevran watched him with light in his heart.

The celebrations faded as the sun sunk below the tops of the buildings. Shorra was growing weary, leaning heavily on Zevran and clinging tightly to his hand wherever they stood or sat. Zevran nudged him and asked in an undertone, “Shall we find somewhere private to finish our night?”

“Maker, no,” Shorra groaned, “I’m too tired tonight. I just want you to hold me and  _ sleep _ .” Shorra shoved his face into Zevran’s shoulder as he drew out the last word.

Zevran chuckled and laid an arm across Shorra’s shoulders. “I think perhaps two bottles of wine is more than even you need. Come, let us say our goodnights and go home.”

The apartment was mercifully quiet compared to the cacophony of the celebration. Soris and his wife were asleep by the fire, and Shianni and Cyrion would both be out for hours longer to help clean up. Shorra released a heavy but satisfied sigh as he sank into his bed. As requested, Zevran pulled him close and cuddled him, and he was snoring within minutes. Zevran stayed awake a while longer, simply enjoying his husband’s presence. Neither of them had bothered to put on pajamas over their underclothes after undressing, and so they laid now bare back to bare chest. Shorra’s skin was warm from the alcohol, and Zevran thought he could feel Shorra’s heartbeat. He let out a sigh of his own, making Shorra’s hair flutter and tickle his face. Slowly, he too drifted off to sleep. 

Late into the night, their hearts found a shared rhythm. To anyone who would have listened, it would sound like their two hearts had become one.


End file.
